


Dandy's Lounge

by What_are_you_12 (Ariadne_Yemoja)



Category: Game Grumps, youtube - Fandom
Genre: 1930s, Diet racism, F/M, Going whole hog will make me sad, Happy Black History Month, Period-Typical Racism, Slow Burn, Tags May Change, Will keep this going after Black History Month, You are Black, You'll deal, harlem renaissance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-10
Updated: 2018-02-09
Packaged: 2019-03-16 03:43:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13627896
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ariadne_Yemoja/pseuds/What_are_you_12
Summary: Dan, a Jewish nightclub owner hires a new lounge singer.  A true song bird...1930s Harlem Renaissance AU.





	Dandy's Lounge

**Author's Note:**

> So, a couple (okay, a lot) of things. I'm doing 1930s research for an actual book, and decided to practice with a fic (that's what I use most of my fic for, practice). There will be some uncomfortable themes in this, my fellow people of color you have been warned.
> 
> Many things have influenced this but two movies that are blatantly responsible are:  
> "Cotton Club" and "Harlem Nights"
> 
> I also wanted to do this to have an excuse to share some history and some Black American figures with people, just cause I think it's fun. So, let's start with Reader's last name!
> 
> W. E. B. Du Bois (pronounced Doo-Boyce, not Doo-Bwah)  
> Here is a good place to start: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-wny0OAz3g8
> 
> I suggest reading more about him and reading his book "The Souls of Black Folk".
> 
> One of my favorite lines of his is this:  
> "He simply wishes to make it possible for a man to be both a Negro and an American, without being cursed and spit upon by his fellows, without having the doors of opportunity closed roughly in his face."  
> -W. E. B. Du Bois: Strivings of the Negro People -1897
> 
> The song used in this first chapter is "I'm Nobody's Baby" written by Milton Ager, Benny Davis and Lester Santly, and performed in 1927 by Ruth Etting (performed by others before that but I like that version the most).  
> (side note: I imagine reader sounds like Billie Holiday.)
> 
> I really hope you guys enjoy this as much as I have enjoyed writing it.
> 
> -Management
> 
> PS: I hope this goes without saying, but please be respectful.  
> You will see the terms, Negro and Colored, but for the love of God if you are Non Black please don't use these terms if you aren't writing something set in this period. You will never see the word N*gg* even if it was used against us a lot at the time (lol, at the time...). 
> 
> Alright, I'm done for real this time. <3

            You clip the satin flower clip into your carefully pinned victory rolls.  Your hands brush over your [f/c] cotton dress and you spin feeling lovely as the base of your dress flows around your legs with a soft swish.  Your hand flies up to your neck to check that your ribbon is in place, probably for the third time.  Despite how gorgeous you feel as you move on to your makeup, you can’t fight the nervousness welling up inside you.  Two-tone told you that you were certain to get this job, but you have your doubts.  It’s been a couple of years since you tried singing seriously.  The last place you worked in replaced you the moment the owner got a new main squeeze.  Said main squeeze decided the place would be a lot classier without negroes around and you and a whole band were out.  Your old band mates found work easy enough, always some rich white looking for the soul atmosphere without having to go to where the soul lives. 

            You however were getting older and now in your early thirties, men weren’t shy about telling you that you were getting past your expiration date.  So, you became one of your mother’s runners and a maid for your aunt to bring in money.  If you got this gig, you could hopefully quit at least one of those jobs, and you already know which one.  Cleaning white folks’ homes while they called your people lazy animals when they thought you weren’t listening really wasn’t something you’d like to continue.

            So Two-tone, the grinning mahogany boy you spent years chasing around the back of the church yard, sent you a message telling you about a new lounge on the edge of Harlem.  They were looking for a solo act and Two-tone talked you up to the owner.  You stand in your full-length mirror tilting it back slowly, so you can take in your full image.  As you slip into your pearl gray blazer you begin your scales, up and down, warbling like a nightingale.  You begin the opening bars to April in Paris, not the words.  No, only the sounds…  You let your voice rise and fall as you grab your large gray purse and door key.  You slip your tap shoes into the bag and head out the door.

            You adjust the flower in your hair and pull out the piece of paper Two-tone gave you and scan the address one last time.

            “Dandy’s Candies and Bakery…” you mumble.  Quite the name for a front.  Two-tone had already gave you the phrase you would need to get ushered to the bar and dance hall.  _Some Dandy Golden taffy, please…_

As you leave your building, you wave at your neighbors playing checkers and arguing.  They did this every day.  You didn’t even understand how they were still friends.  On the corner beside the bus stop, a man blows mournfully on his saxophone and you drop fifty cents into his case.

 

*

 

            Dan dismisses a wisp of a woman from the stage, not one of them thus far has the sound he’s looking for.  Some of them will do in a pinch but… It ain’t what he wants.  He glances over at Papa D and smiles at the older man, a lopsided grin making the angles of his pale olive face soft.

            “Hey take five, D.  We’ll start again in a bit.” His tenor voice calls out.  Papa D grins back and clucks his tongue.  His sepia brown eyes sparkle as he stands, reaching for his old fedora.

            “You’ll find her, son.  There’s a songbird on her way I’m sure.” The old man rasps.  Dan snorts and runs his hair through unruly chocolate curls.

            “She better work those wings so she’s here before I’m done at nine.” Dan snarks.  Papa D laughs and slips out the door leading to the kitchen, behind the bar.  As he leaves the rest of the Harlem Dandies, the house band, tromp down the stairs laughing.  Most likely they were laughing at Duck; the man never went anywhere without making someone laugh.  The tallest one, Two-tone grins at him and slides down the rail of the steps.

            “Dandy Dan!” he calls out, jogging up to him.  Dan smirks and tilts his head.

            “Tone.”

            “She got here yet?” he asks hopefully.  Dan shakes his head, curls bouncing.

            “Your lady ain’t here yet, less she’s one of the ones I sent away.”

            Two-tone laughs and slides into the seat next to him in the curved booth.

            “Naw, if she came through you’d be thanking me.” The tall black man passes slim fingers through his short, permed hair.  Dan shakes his head again and gives a snort of laughter.

            “You seem awful confident about this…”

            “God kissed her throat when she was born.  That’s what my mama used to say.  She got a voice that brings angels to heel.”  He smiles fondly and laughs again.  “Also, she ain’t my lady.  Just friends, grew up together… went to the same church.”

            Dan clucks his tongue.  “Super religious?”

            Two-tone grins even wider, white teeth flashing in the low light.  “Nah, but she got a lot of soul.”

 

*

 

            One broken down bus later, you finally find yourself in front of a wide pane of glass with fancy gold lettering painted across it.  You pull open the door, little bell jingling above your head as you look around the shop.  A familiar woman with light lavender hair with dark roots putters around behind the counter.  She turns blue eyes on you and begins to greet you, but a surprised noise cuts her off.

            “Welcome to Dandy’s Candies a-  Oh!  [y/f/n], it’s you!”

            Remembering yourself and swallowing you nod slowly.  “Ms. Conrad…” you murmur.  She waves it off and pulls her black shawl closer around her.

            “We’re not in front of my mother.  Holly’s fine, remember?”

            “Better safe than sorry, Ms. Holly.” You whisper.  Holly is about to say something and seems to think better of it with a nod.  She settles on smiling wide and gesturing around the sweet shop.

            “So, what brings you here today [y/n].  What are you looking for?  There are lots of cakes, pastries, and chocolates here.”

            You move closer to the counter and clear your throat.  If Holly is here obviously she knew what was going on right?  She wouldn’t rat you out, would she?

            “Can I get some Dandy Golden taffy, please?”  You rush through these words and you hold your breath waiting as Holly freezes, her dark lashes fluttering against a cream colored cheek.

            “Are you applying to…” she starts.

            “Solo act… Two-tone suggested-”

            “OH!  You know Two-tone?” She says brightly.

            “Known him most of my life.” You say with a grin.  Holly slips from behind the counter and waves you into the back room.  She leads you through a warm, yellow painted kitchen and pulls open a wooden door.  Behind that are shelves of sugar and honey, flour and cinnamon.  Following Holly down the rows, you come to a wall.  Holly goes off and pulls something somewhere and the wall swings wide, showing you a broad stairway.

            “Just head on down, Dan will be the one by the stage with the curls.” Holly chirps.  She places a hand on your shoulder and gives it a friendly squeeze.  “Good luck, [y/n].”

            You give a final weak smile and take a deep breath, brushing off your skirt.  As you descend the stairs a broad room opens up to you.  On a wide cherry wood stage, a white grand piano sits off to the left (your left).  Other instruments litter the stage, a microphone taking center place.  Off to the right is a bar, where a short Asian man with dark hair is leaning against the counter chatting with a woman with long black waves.  Your eyes swing back to the stage and sitting in a booth dead center is a man with the most amazing brown curls you’ve ever seen.  They spill down his back and float around his head like a cloud at the same time.  Next to him, chatting up a storm is Two-tone.  You feel relief flood you knowing he’d be here.

            “Um, excuse me?” you call.  The four people in the room turn towards you as you continue down the stairs.  You make an emergency plea to God that you don’t trip in your damn heels.  Two-tone stands and practically runs in your direction.

            “[Y/n]!  Finally!  Where you been, girl?” He wraps his arms around you and you squeeze him back grinning from ear to ear.

            “My bus broke down on 123rd street.  We had to wait for another, I’m so sorry Charles.”

            “Don’t be sorry!  I’m glad you made it.  Let me introduce you!”  Two-tone gestures to the tall slim man with the easy smile.  He inclines his head and you do the same.  “This is Dan Avidan, he owns the place.”

            “How you do, sir?  I’m [Y/f/n], [y/n] DuBois.” You move forward and extend you hand towards the man, staring up into his angled face.  His jawline is strong, dimples in his cheeks and one in his chin.  His eyes are deep set and hooded.  He looks sleepy, but his hazel brown eyes say he is incredibly alert.  Clever looking…  He searches your face just fervently and you can feel your face grow hot.

            “Doo-boyce?” he says annunciating your last name.

            “Yes sir, like the city in Idaho.”

            “I thought that was Boy-z.” he quirks an eyebrow at you, there is a little scar there.  It does nothing to stop how handsome he is.  You giggle.

            “That’s the capital, Do-boyce is just another city.  I never been, though.” You finish.  “Can’t imagine it’s more exciting than New York, to be honest.”  Dan smirks at this.  Two-tone laughs.

            “Only place might be as exciting as New York is Chicago, I hear it’s just as jumpin there.” He says.  Dan only shrugs.

            “Hey Tone, why don’t you grab Papa, so we can get her audition underway.”

            “Oh!” Two-tone looks as though he has forgotten something very important.  “[y/n], I’m so sorry.  I forgot to tell you about that.”  He reaches for your hand and you suddenly feel nervous all over again.  “[Y/n] your father…”

            Your face drops, [e/c] eyes narrowing.  “What about my father?” A side door opens by the bar and you turn and watch as the man who abandoned your mother strolls in whistling.  The man who taught you to carry a tune… The man who taught you and his other four children to play checkers…  The man who left when things got too tough, leaving your mother to fend for herself…  He locks eyes with you and whispers your name.  Besides a bit more gray in his black, tight curls, he’s the same solid man who kissed you goodbye one final time and left for work.  The two people at the bar look between the two of you and then at Dan.  You turn to him forcing a smile.

            “So, you said you were ready to start my audition?”

            Dan watches you carefully as if making a decision and nods slowly.  Offering you his elbow, he leads you to the stage.  You hear Two-tone follow behind.

            “Is this going to be okay?” Dan murmurs.  You rest your hand against his surprisingly solid arm and smile wide.

            “I’m a professional, Mr. Avidan.  I can handle anything.” You say.  Inside you are furiously stomping down a million acerbic words for the elderly man sliding behind the piano, and a million more towards yourself for daring to be happy to see him well.  Dan however knows none of this, instead he gives you a soft smirk, releasing your arm.

            “Dan is fine.”  He gestures toward the stage and you smile back, stepping up to the mic.  Two-tone follows you flashing you a wink and beginning to warm up his trumpet.  You look down at Dan, cheeks hurting from your forced smile.

            “Is there something you wanna hear, or shall I just do my thing?” you ask.  Dan tilts his head, curls falling in front of his pale olive toned face.

            “Do you know ‘I’m Nobody’s Baby’?” he asks finally.  You nod and wait a moment while Two-tone and your father begin the intro.  You raise you’re arms, brushing your fingers against the mic stand.  Taking a deep breath, you begin.

 

_I used to be my mother's baby._

_When I was near my dad went wild._

_Whenever we had company_

_They'd bounce me on their knee_

_The neighbors thought I was a darlin' child!_

 

            You start swaying to the piano, it felt like when you still worked at the Diamond.  The stage had always felt like the safest place in the world for you.

 

_Once I was everybody's baby_

_But right now, I'm lonesome as can be_

_You see I'm nobody's baby, I wonder why_

_Each night and day, I pray, the Lord up above_

_To please send me down somebody to love._

 

            You listen to the perfect way your father’s fingers, roll over the ivories.  He didn’t miss a step.  He always knew how to make toes tap.  What’s your mother gonna say when you tell her you saw him?  Should you tell her?

 

_Cause nobody wants me_

_I'm blue somehow_

_Won't someone hear my plea?_

_Come take a little chance with me_

_Because I'm nobody's baby now._

 

            Two-tone picks up on his horn and gives the sweetest solo you’ve ever heard in a long time.  You appreciate that they’ve slowed down the tempo, it works better for your range, somewhere between a low alto and a high tenor.  You do a little dance during their instrumental and then pick up again nice and strong.

 

_I'm no, no, no, no nobody's baby_

_I, I just wonder why_

_Each night and day, night and day I pray, I pray the Lord up above_

_To please, please send me down some sweet somebody to love_

_Because no, no, no, no nobody wants me_

_I'm, I'm blue somehow_

_Won't someone hear my plea?_

_Come take a little chance with me_

_Because I'm no, no, no, no, no nobody's baby now._

 

            Dan and the two people that used to be by the bar are applauding you.  It feels good, but the face splitting grin on Dan’s face feels even better.  You take a bow and turn to incline your head respectfully to your father and Two-tone.  You father smiles at you; you don’t miss the clear beads of tears forming in the corners of his eyes.  You don’t miss the small bit of pride behind his bourbon brown eyes.  Rage and joy fight inside you and you settle on turning back to Dan who extends his hand toward you.

            You take it and let him lead you to his booth where you slide in.  Two-tone follows grinning from ear to ear.

            “Hey, didn’t I tell you?  Her voice is the sweetest silver.” He says.

            “That it is.” Dan replies.  He gestures towards the other two people.  “The handsome gent there is Mark, our bartender.”  The eastern Asian man smirks, brown eyes lighting up.

            “Lovely voice there, little lark.”  You don’t know what voice you were expecting out of this man, but that deep bass is not it.  It sounds like thunder in summer.  Dan swings his hand towards the woman.

            “And this is Suzy.  Her and her husband bake stuff for the front and her husband cooks for the lounge.  Suzy also waits tables and helps with the bartending sometimes.”

            “[Y/n], right?  So wonderful.  I can’t believe Two-tone was right about something for once.” Her voice is as sweet as cotton candy.  For someone dressed in black from head to toe, it’s a little strange.  You thank them both and wait for Dan to tell you the words you want to hear; he doesn’t keep you waiting long.  Finally sliding into the red velvet booth, he folds his hands in front of his chin.

            “So, can you start tomorrow night?”


End file.
